The Love of a Million Dreams
by W. J. Sickler
Summary: The year is 1900 and a sidhe noble falls in ill fated love with a commoner. See that he will do anything for love in this adventurous tale of romance. . .
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The following story is merely a fanfic based off of White Wolf's Changeling storyline. I own, in no way, shape, or form anything of White Wolf or Changeling. The character names and likeness, however, are a different story entirely.  
  
Forward: Though White Wolf has its guidelines for the Changeling universe, I have added and omitted a few things here and there to add to creative continuity in order to tell an entertaining story. This is not to say that I am rewriting the world of Changeling as we know it, far from it. I am just adding that spark of life needed to grab an audience's attention and keep them satisfied with what they are reading. Should there be any deviation from the Changeling as you know it, know that I am taking full creative control over my own story, thank you.  
  



	2. Prologue

The only thing, in life, worse than love is to fall in love in the first place. . .  
--Dietre Klause, scion of House Fionna  
  
Okay, let me go into detail as to why I, Dietre Klause, would spread such atrocities on the subject of love. But before I draw you a diagram of the pains of love allow me to first give you some insight into my personal background; as you know I am Dietre Klause, the scion to House Fionna in Germany. I was raised among the wealthy in Berlin and had everything taken care of for me for my entire youth. As I grew into adolescence I had experienced, later as I am informed of, a Chrysalis. I had no idea what was becoming of me, my world fell into the passionate waves of chaos as my eyes were then open to the Dreaming. As I learned in time, my true mother was in fact among der faire kind, half of the enchanted blood and half mortal, ordinary and of short life. From my findings my father, Baron among his mortal holdings, had happened upon one of his goodlywhores in the city and kept a long term affair with her until I came into the scene. As for the woman who had raised me as her own in my father's house, I had replaced her child who had died by the scarlet fever in his crib. My father took a chance on sneaking me into my dead half-brother's crib in hopes that my mother would not suspect that I was not of her blood. And the funny part of this was that it had actually worked since the woman I had called mother had never seen her dead son and had taken to me as him this whole while. But this is not what colors my opinion about love. No, you see, this is merely prologue to my personal accounts on the seductively cruel emotion.  
  
I remember it as if it were precisely one year, two months, thirteen days, and some hours ago, but I'm not counting. You see, I am in the midsts of my wilder years and I have climbed among my social latters in the court of the Lady Brumhilde, ruler of Berlin, Lady of House Fionna, and the list goes on and on. During my initial days of becoming scion to the House I had accompanied Old Froggardy, an aged grump of a grump. He had been in Lady Brumhilde's service since before the turn of the century and his ways were becoming dim and old. I was placed under his tutalage to become a scion for a more modern era of the House and thus all the roayl Houses of the Dreaming. During my tutalage I had accompanied Hier Froggardly into the City of Lights, Paris. During this new modern era, Paris had become a beacon for fools and scholars. And in this case both were in attendant with Old Froggardly playing the part of the scholar and myself as the fool. It was here that I will begin my studies not of the courtly preceedings of House Fionna, but in love.  
  
  
"Winter is upon us," Old Froggardly complained and ran a grissled finger through his long and equally aged whiskers. This had made his button nose twitch to the sensation of something being close to his face. "Make note of that, it will do you well to know that the end is near."  
  
"Yes, Hier Froggardly," I remembered saying blankly. The old grouch had been complaining all day, this is his nature in being an artifact from a time where such modern nicities had yet to spill over Europe. In his days it was coal and carriages. Now we have steam trains and electricity. We keep our streets alit at night not with torches but with gaslight. Also, among the truly wealthy there are automobiles puttering along the cobblestone. This modern age is indeed a blessing to the Dream, even if Froggardly talks ill of the change.  
  
"Are you hearing anything I have said," Old Froggardly asked, his olng flop-ears raising nearly on end and his bucked teeth nearly in the way of his speech.  
  
"Hier Froggardly," I began, i so wanted to tell him my thoughts and views of this time, my time, but I decided it wise not to chastise my mentor. "Can I fetch you some more drink, sir."  
  
"Decadence and grime," he began, "look out this window, boy and look at all the filth. These windows are stained with an oily grime that these steam trains spew out into this black sky. The oceans are sticky with the oil these ships use to go back and forth to the Americas. Machines, my boy, are cold, dirty, and pollutants, they will cease up and choke the very life out of this planet. The Winter is upon us indeed."  
  
"Old Froggardly, are you speaking the truth or are you just complaining in your old age," I tried to kid with the old rabbit.  
  
"I am getting old, Hier Klause. Lies are the lifesblood of us pookas. We lie with every beat of our heart, once our hearts slow down, so do our lies, now mind that boy, that was an important lesson in pookas," the venrable scion said to me.  
  
"I meant no insult to that, Hier Froggardly, I was just trying to bring some levity to the subject. After all, it is not winter outside, it is spring. Hear how the birds chirp," that was indeed my faux pas, it was night then and no bird was out then but I paused and feigned to listen for the sweet song of the birds anyhow. "You just need to liven up once more, Old Froggardly, have some drink with me, let's see the sights this city has to offer two strangers from Germany on a grand night like tonight."  
  
"Youthful, blind, loving ignorance," the grump said, "cherish these moments, Hier Klause, before you know it you'll end up like me."  
  
Honestly I could not tell if he was joking or if he was being serious. I did see a slight smile crease up the side of his muzzle but it could have been another one of those dmaned tests that he had me sit throguh, the test of reading my audience. If I had it my way I would have gone under the tutalage of someone of my own form, a siidhe, but in retrospect I see that learning these lessons from an ancient pooka will pay off in time.  
  
"I think I will turn in for the night, I want you to stay up and read over my doccuments, I expect a full report by the time I wake tomorrow," Old Froggardly said as he moved his way slowly to his bedroom.  
  
"I will," I said and watched as he hobbled his way into the other room and clsing it behind him.  
  
  
I had poured over document after document that night but I felt restless. I was in here while the rest of Paris was still awake. I had my desk before the window so that I could look out to the streets below and see the hustle and bustle of all the love stricken Parisians. I thought how marvelous it would be to go down below and join them for a drink or two, or to catch a show, or to dance, or to do anything that was not realted to reading lineage charts of the Parisian families of House Fionna. And that's when I became introduced to my subject i detest so much. As I sat there in my day dream, though it was well in the middle of the night by then, the door flung open and closed sharply.  
  
I spun around to see what all the commotion was about and I caught the most amazing sight I had ever seen. She was a gorgeous creature of a fine standing, possibly nearly as tall as I. Her mane fell over her shoulders, despite how disheveled it appeard and shone with a brilliance of a million yellow electric lights. She was dressed remarkably, though in retrospect it was actually quite bawdy and whorish; that was probably due to the fact that she was in fact a whore.  
  
She had sealed the door behind her and she was breathing with the harshness of a chase. She had no idea I was in the room, that I was admiring her, or that I was approaching her; I had no idea that I was approaching her.  
  
She was a thing of beauty, the subtle rosiness of her flesh, the perfume that she was scented with, the long stretch of her neck and the most adorable set of pointed ears I had ever seen-- She had pointed ears, she is another child of the Dream, what were the chances of finding another changeling here at this time, after all ours is a dying breed, as Froggardly puts it. I see it that we are just a rare lot which lives in the most unlook for of places, that's how we had been avoiding each other all this time.  
  
"Hello, frauline," Okay, I admit that my French is awful before I go into any more detail, I was hoping that she knew and spoke German, if not I would have to rely on the universal translation of speaking louder and slower.  
  
She screamed and turned around in a frantic matter. She looked like she was a deer being chased by a hunter, or so I would imagine, I never hunted myself nor had I ever had to learn how to, my meals were prepared for me by my staff. But as she screamed I found myself jumping bac and then I heard Old Froggardly stir in his sleep in the other room and I needed to bring results so I cupped my hand over her mouth to silence her and to keep that old grump from waking. My success was short lived as she bit down on my fingers and I gave out a scream of my own. That's when she cupped a hand over my mouth to keep me from alerting any unwelcomed company.  
  
We both stood there, face to face, my eyes welling up with tears, not of joy but of pain as we cupped each others mouths with our hands, only her teeth were well secured in my finger. We both muttered to each other in a muted agreement that we will remove our hands on the count of three. We both mumbled one, two, and on three we both let go and I flung myself to the corner, nursing my finger.  
  
"You bit me," I told her, as if she didn't know.  
  
"You have to hide me," she insisted.  
  
"You bit me," was about all i could say until she smacked some vocabulary into my mouth.  
  
"Okay, I'll hide you," I stammered as i tried to find a hiding spot for this perfect and beautiful stranger.  
  
"How about in here," she asked as she was appraoching Old Froggardly's room.  
  
"No, no, no, not in there, my mentor's within, if he catches me away from my studies, he'll have my head," I told her as I stole her away from his door and to the WC.  
  
"I can't go in there, that's the first place he'll look," she said.  
  
"Well, dammit, where can I hide you," I asked.  
  
That's when I heard the door trying to be opened.  
  
"He's here," she said. Her eyes were like the ocean, blue and watery. She was desperate to find a place to hide and that's when I came up with a plan,not a good one, mind you, but it worked.  
  
"Get into my trousers," I instucted her.  
  
"I beg your pardon," she retorted but I insisted that she slip my trousers on over her half naked bottom and go over to my bed where I would continue with the rest of my plan.  
  
The door creeked open after having the lock picked. A rather strong looking brute stepped in, a scar made its way from the northern most point of his face to the southern most part of his chin. You could see his stinking breath emitt from his grisley lip.  
  
"Where is she," he had asked in French. Okay, I can understand most of the words in the French language, I just have a hard time speaking it. The few words I know in French are enough to get myself a thrashing.  
  
I looked up from my bed, my documents in my hands and I pretended to act dumb.  
  
"I am sorry, I know not of whom you speak of," I said while my newly enlongated legs folded over each other to make me look more relaxed.  
  
"You're awfuly tall for a German," the gruff man said as he traced the back of his fist across his chin to retrieve some spilled spittle.  
  
"Well, you see, my mother was Scandanavian," I said as I showed of my long appearance.  
  
"I see," he began, "you don't mind if I look around, do you?"  
  
"Oh now, help yourself," I said as my new legs tapped their toes at the footrest of my bed.  
  
I watched as he went for the WC and he found nothing there. He then checked my trunk, noting. My closet, nothing. He then went for Old Froggardly's room.  
  
"No, don't go in there," I protested but he ingored me and opened the door and stepped in.  
  
"Ah-ha," he exclaimed but was greeted by a swat of Old Froggardly's cane and the old grump cursed at him to leave and get lost. The brute stumbled out of the room and closed the door behind him before returning his attention to me.  
  
"Well then, German, it appears that you are speaking the truth, I am sorry to inconvenience you, goodnight," he said to me while sporting anewly recieved black eye, curtousey of Old Froggardly. He stepped out of the hotel room and closed the door as he went on his business.  
  
The girl then rolled off from on top of me, leaving me with my coat on lying on the bed.  
  
"How can i thank you," she said as she removed my trousers; from her, not me, mind you.  
  
"Well," I began, "you can start by telling me your name."  
  
"Margot," she said.  
  
"Margot, what a sweet name," I began, how smitten I was then that such a diamond in the rough had happened upon my hotel room that night. "The pleasure was all mine, I was merely helping a woman in need." Then it had dawned on me, who is she and who was that man, so I asked.  
  
"That was a customer who wanted more than just a fun time," and I thought that that man was her pimp, "but i really must be going now."  
  
Before she left I stopped her one last time.  
  
"Can I see you again," I asked, foolhartedly.  
  
"Maybe, but I doubt that your kind would ever go to such a place," she began.  
  
"My kind," I had asked.  
  
"You're obviously a sidhe, and a noble, you wouldn't last two minutes in the Underworld, I'm sorry, sir, but I do beleive that this is goodbye," she said and walked out my door.  
  
I waited by my window to watch her pass through the streets before entering what she calls the Underworld; the seedy underbelly of Paris, a home to whores, pimps, drunks, and life. I must enter these carnal canals and emerse myself in this culture that is of the modern age.  
  



	3. I

That next morning Old Froggardly and myself made our way to meet with Monsieur De La Roi and have myself introduced to the services of his court as the new scion to the court of Berlin's House of Fionna. But before we underwent any such trip, Old Froggardly had berated me on allowing an intruder to barge into our hotel room. He had told me that Paris is a place where you absollutley can not trust anyone. Everyone here has the intent to steal from you in your sleep. However, I thought that the old pooka was embilishing a little, but his scorn seem legitimate, after all, Margot's customer had broken into our room last night and did steal into Old Froggardly's room.  
  
"Mind yourself, boy," he had told me, "and watch yourself, Paris is a den of thieves."  
  
If it is I would like to find out why it is and why it continues to be. Who are these commoners who dance in the streets at night here? In my homeland we have nothing so debaucherous as the Underworld here. I felt as if Germany had never progressed much; sure we have moving pictures and the such, but other than that, what have we to show for it. I truly felt out of touch during these days here in Paris, after all I am a noble, tucked away in Lady Brumhilde's house going through my duties of becoming scion to her court. There was something seductive, something so intriguing that these Bohemians possessed that I so wanted to become a part of. I want to adapt my fellow nobles with the modern age.  
  
But I digress, it was this morning that we made our way out into the countryside by means of horse drawn carriage. Monsieur De la Roi's land was vast. He owned a great deal and owned his own grove where, as I was told, he enjoys most of his time hunting game in. The stables he has on his land is indeed enough to make anyone envious, he keeps only the finest of the equistrian breed. But that was merely his land, his house, rather, his mansion was palatial in the most extravagagant French style. Large doors and equally tall windows, giant crystal chandaliers, imaculate staircases, this place was amazing.  
  
Old Froggardly had instructed the custodian to go fetch Monsieur De le Roi and we were then shown to a magnificent grande hallway where we awaited our audience with the nobleman.  
  
I spent my time waiting for the Monsieur by admiring some of his collection on the wall. The frescoes and oils had come from all around the world. I made out some familiar names like Raphael, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh. These peices alone would go for a king's ransom and from my understanding this was merely a fraction of his collection. In his private rooms he has paintings from more valuable artists from the fae blooded. Artwork to the likes of which no mortal has never seen and are solely enjoyed by the few faerie nobles that exist, even then, only a few among them have seen such masterpeices.  
  
"Ah, Hier Froggardly and Hier Klause, how good of you to come to my home, may I offer you some wine," Monsieur De le Roi said as he entered the room with his escorts. I promptly turned around nad followed suit with Old Froggardly and gave a bow to the noble.  
  
"Ah, Monsieur, some wine would be too much trouble, we must decline," Froggardly siad, this sounded off color for him, being the present scion, refusing drink from a noble.  
  
"I see through you, old pooka, I'll have my finest vintage brought out at once, come, sit," the lord said as he led us to some fine leather chairs. His attendants served some wine and handed each of us a glass.  
  
"Hier Klause, I have heard many things about you," the Monsiuer said.  
  
"All good things, I hope, my lord," I returned.  
  
"Oh my, yes Klause, yes. From what I understand you are going to become the new scion to the Berlin court of Fionna," he said to me.  
  
"Yes, that's correct."  
  
"This role has a great deal of responsibility, will this interfere in your social life. After all, a man of your age has a wife, no," the Monsieur asked. He plucked a chocolate from a dish and put it into his mouh in such a dainty manner.  
  
"Actually, sir, I am not married, my studies have taken up most of my time, I've not found the time to spend on girls these days," I then followed that by taking a sip from my glass, the wine was good, superior in fact to any I had had before.  
  
"You like it," the Monsiuer asked as if reading my thoughts on the wine, "the grapes come from my vinyard and my vessels make the wine on my land. By far I beleive that this is the best wine I have had ever."  
  
"It is excellent, my lord," I admitted and sat the glass aside, I found it spooky when he spoke about his wine. So I took it then to bring myself up to speed with the French court, to show that I have learned something under Old Froggardly's tutorage.  
  
"Monsieur De le Roi, I understand it that this is hallow land and that you actualy have a bale fire on your property. How exciting that you own a freehold. As I understand your forefathers had defended it against the Famorian clan during the Gaul era," I brought up.  
  
"Very good, Hier Klause, you have done your homework, bravo," the monsiuer said.  
  
"I am truly fascinated by the historic events surrounding your court and its affairs in House Fionna and the crusade against the Winter. Like the time when Lord Le Roi charged his vessels against Chief Wolfegarr's soldiers in the battle against the Thallain," I began.  
  
"Stop, you embarrass me, I'm blushing. Hier Froggardly, your assistant here is too kind with his words, I beleive I will enjoy his company as scion to the House."  
  
After hearing that I truly felt accepted. I was no longer just a vessel to Lady Brumhilde, I was now scion to Fionna, which in return is just another vessel for the lady, but at least now I have a title.  
  
"So tell me, how is Frauline Brumhilde these days, Hier Froggardly," the Monsiuer asked.  
  
The two went on and on about old times. The Monsiuer is not that much older than I, he probably still remains in his thirties somewhere, but he holds an oldness to his soul which Froggardly connected with. The old pooka had been scion for some forty years and during the past twenty or so he had been in direct services to Monsiuer De le Roi during his stays in Paris to discuss the news of the House and its expanses and its relations to the other noble houses.  
  
I watched how Old Froggardly worked, though his ways are different from mine, the way he tongue-and-cheeks the truth to compensate for his handicap of being a chronic liar. The old grump couldn't help it, after all he even told me that lies are the lifesblood of his people, the pooka.  
  
I felt that I was becoming more and more offical by the moment as i watched my final lessons unfurl before me. Though for the most part the two spoke like old friends for the majority of the meeting.  
  
"Well, Hier Froggardly, I do hope that you return to Paris from time to time, you are always welcome here in my holdings," Monsiuer De le Roi said as he escorted us to the front doors.  
  
"I will make it a point to stay home, my friend, but thank you for the offer," Old Froggardly said as he placed his old top hat on to his head, "take care, Monsiuer De le Roi."  
  
"And you too. And as for Hier Klause, I look foreward to our first day together," the noble said.  
  
"Thank you, my lord, you have been a most generous host," I said as we were dismissed.  
  
  
On the way back to the hotel room I had asked Old Froggardly if I did well, his response was something on the lines of, "You could've done better."  
  
"Thank you, Hier Froggardly," I told him. He then gave me a smile in return.  
  
Working with a pooka makes you a wiser fae, know this and you will succede. They speak in lies and half truths, it pains them so to come up front and speak the truth. It's just one of those quirks I suppose, just like a nocker can't stop himself from cursing and taking the lords name in vain or perform any other outlandish social stigma that is not smiled upon in public, or that a sluagh can't scream louder than a whisper, and so on and so on. But knowing when a pooka is telling you something important or when one is trying to compliment you can come of insulting at first until you realize that they are only trying to make you look for their true meaning masked behind mind spinning lies and riddles.  
  
  
That night Old Froggardly went to sleep and I was left alone to sign some papers as the new scion. Lucky for him that as soon as the Monsiuer liked me and i got the job that he managed to unload all of his unfinished work on me. I should've known that he was lying when he told me that I'd be doing nothing at all other than travel with him to Paris and meet Monsiuer De le Roi. And now I'm stuck here on the remainder of our stay in Paris with volumes of unfinished paper work dating back to earlier this year. Didn't this grump do any of his work while under Lady Brumhilde's service?  
  
I sat there at my desk, tapping my pencil against its side and I found myself drifting my attention towards the streets below. The sleepless Parisians of the Underworld, the Bohemians, the lovers of life, now these are the dreamers I hear so much about. We as children of the Dream must seek those mortals who live so near the edge of reality, who create and love and we must embrace them and share their world with us and continue the Dream. It's people like this that make me argue with Old Froggardly that the Winter will not come for a very long time but he dismisses them as mere hedonists who worship empty pleasures.  
  
I sighed and stared out my window. That's were I should be. That's were I'll learn to be a better scion to a more modern Fionna. After all, out of all of the noble houses, it is Fionna that is so in love with passion, during these days why do we not run out and embrace it. Instead the house has become nothing more than stale, stagnate, and in love with empty emotions of false passion. If anything I believe that House Fionna should be the leaders to the new world of this modern age.  
  
It was then that i decided to take it to the streets. I went and put on my coat and shoes and snuck out of the hotel room. I tiptoed down the rickety stairs and slipped into the night once I made it to the bottome landing at the floor. I stole away into the night with a sense of acceleration, something was happening and I wanted to embrace it all.  
  
My French is terrible, but I believe the whore beside me, as I rounded the corner from my hotel room, asked if I was looking for a good time. I declined but asked her if she knew a girl named Margot who was at my hotel last night. She then directed me to a very seedy looking den of burlesque called the Theatre des Ombres. It was a sinner's paradise with gargoyles and very Gothic architecture along with red electric lights and a red carpet leading into the maw of this beast. A large man stood at the door an opened the door for me and as I stepped inside I heard such a comotion, there was life all around this place. Music blared from an orchestra pit with a modern fanfare, gentlemen dance and were seduced by very leggy burlesque dancers and everything was alit with the spark of life and thus the Dreaming.  
  
"Such a marvel," I recalled saying.  
  
"Care for a drink," a very beautiful harlot asked me as she snaked up beside me, her satin gloves clenching around my tired shoulders, the massage felt so heavenly.  
  
"Please," I said as I made my way to a booth and watched her head for the bar to fetch me something.  
  
With everything up in a wild orgy of celebration I sat in my booth with my drink and soaked in the excitement. This was living, it is a shame that Old Froggardly could not make it out, not that he would go for it in the first place, being the grumpy old fuss that he is  
  
I was so relaxed that I didn't recognized the brute from last nite when he walked passed me. It wasn't until he turned back over his steps and walked down an aisle to get closer to the floor show that I saw his face, his scar, that horribly jagged scar. I was not prepared to see him here, but if he was here, he too must be looking for Margot as well. I just hope to god that I find her before he does.  
  
I went to get up when a flock of dancer swept me up towards the floor show and made me dance with them. I was unsure where I was or where I was going, all I saw was beautiful face by beautiful face, and legs, ruffles, garters, bossoms, and then the look of recognistion on a man with a scar's face as he saw me just an arm's breadth out of reach which he capitalized on by grabbing my collar and drawing me near him.  
  
"Hey, German, weren't you taller last night," he had asked me.  
  
"Funny you should say that, that was because I, well, you see," I had no excuse ready for me at that time and this grisled brute looked like he was going to beat some answers out of me. I could rely on using some magics of mine but I did not want these mortals to realize that I was not like them. He huffed his filthy breath into my face and it was putrid.  
  
"Henri, no, put him down," came a man's voice over a megaphone. When I turned to look at this new speaker I realized that he was a sluagh, dressed in a long black coat, earmuffs, and a pair of black glasses, very ingenious of him to copensate for his handicaps.  
  
"But DuMonte, he knows where she is," the brute, Henri, huffed out.  
  
"He does not, he is my guest here at the Theatre des Ombres, unlike that whore Margot. Neither her nor her pimp are allowed to walk through my doors. Competition is bad for business," the sluagh, DuMonte said through the megaphone again.  
  
The clod thought this over and released his grip on my coat. I had to flatten the material out from its wrinkles that Henri left on it but I did escape another thrashing. And as soon as I straighten myself up I found myself being pulled away by the sluagh. He was leading me backstage and down a spiraling flight of stairs into a darkly lit basement where he shoved me in and sealed the door behind us.  
  
"Who are you," he asked me.  
  
"I am Dietre Klause, scion for House Fionna," I said.  
  
"Bloody hell I have a noble in my midst," he began, "and you are here for Margot as well, I suppose."  
  
"I had no idea that she was unwelcomed, knowing that now I think I will try elsewhere, thank you," I had said as I tried to find my way through the darkness. The basement was as pitch as night. I could hear the sluagh but I could not see him, that was until he lit a lamp.  
  
"How do you know Margot," he asked me, his tightly drawn lips drew back to expose his sharp teeth. His features were nearly skelatal with the candle light splashing across his visage. Had I not dealt with sluaghs before I might have jumped out of my skin by this one's deathly pallor.  
  
"Well, I helped her last night, you see, she ran into a bit of trouble and I managed to keep her from being caught by that brute from upstairs," I explained, "I just thought that she might be here because a girl had told me so, I had no idea that she was unwelcomed here. So if you would lead me back up to the doors I promise that I shall not return, okay?"  
  
"You see, I could do that," the sluagh siad, "or I can have you find here. And once you have done that I suggest that you convince her to return to my bordello."  
  
"And if I don't?"  
  
"Than I shall turn a blind eye on Henri's actions concerning you, monsiuer," he finished.  
  
I saw his point and felt that it might be in my better interest to find Margot and try to reunite her with DuMonte and his Theatre des Ombres. After I found his point I was left to go about my business; returning to my hotel room before Old Froggardly awoke this morning.  
  



End file.
